A Path Untaken
by Calathiel of Mirkwood
Summary: There were two choices before her. One would doom Middle-Earth. The other would save it. Arwen had to choose, leaving one path, one life, one destiny untaken.
1. The Star

Well, I'm not really sure where to start. This story could be considered AU by some...but...you'll just have to decide for yourself at the end. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Oh! I should probably explain that Begil and Naimen are Legolas' brothers in my world. :)

Disclaimer: Wow, you actually thought I was Tolkien? Maybe I need to re-think how I do my make-up...But to clear up any confusion, nope, I'm not him, so this isn't mine.

**A Path Untaken**

**Chapter 1: The Star**

Bright faces and broad smiles shone as brilliantly as the stars high in the dark sky. Laughter rang through the air as the warm breeze, scented by Rivendell's vast gardens, sidled in through the open windows and doors.

Radiant and melodic voices filled the hall, brimming out into the lantern lit pathways and weaving amongst the vibrant foliage.

Two faces near the center of the gathering, however, outshone the rest, their glow more dazzling than the moon, in all its luminescent glory.

The elegant figure on the right was clothed in pale lavender, a thin silver ribbon about her waist. Raven hair was swept back, tumbling from the clasps in gentle curls, and delicate white blossoms rested as a crown on the fair brow above a pair of sapphire eyes that glittered in mirth. 

On her left was another face, chiseled and merry. This elf's flaxen hair was braided as a warrior of Mirkwood. Clad in green, he contrasted his breathtaking partner, accenting her dark, rare beauty with his own strong, golden appearance.

He, upon seeing a couple nearby, whispered something to her, eliciting a quiet trickle of laughter then a light blow to his arm.

"Legolas, they've barely met. You cannot even begin to entertain the idea that they are a couple until at least a fortnight has passed," the lady chided, eyes dancing in good humor.

"Aye, m'lady, but see how he holds her hand, and there, they dance together," the tall warrior pointed out. The couple in question was indeed joining the other pairs of elves in the center of the softly lit room. "See how he holds her waist…they are set, m'lady, whether you allow yourself to see it or not."

She laughed again, the strain of amusement as musical as a stream tripping and tumbling over the smooth stones in its path. "You say my logic is faulty yet you fail to see the fallacies in your own. Basing a couple's success on how they hold hands or how he embraces her is hardly a solid or reliable standpoint for one's statements."

Legolas grinned at her, the expression bordering on impudence. "Oh, m'lady, in fact, it is crucial." He clasped her pale palm in his own and brought it before their faces, his air changed to that of utter sincerity. "If he is truly interested in her he will hold her hand tightly, for it would not do to lose her after all his efforts. But he must not hold too tightly or the loss he works to avoid will become inevitable. Instead of the uplifting, freedom giving relationship he had aspired to attain upon taking her hand, she will strive to loose herself from what she views as a threat to her independence." He lowered their hands. "If he trusted her enough to loose his grip and if her love was true, she would not let go, for her attachment to him would bid her to hold on."

Arwen could not find the words to express her astonishment, it was so complete. Finally, she forced out in a breathless voice, "Legolas, when did you become so wise?"

A wan grin crossed his face, fluttering lightly for a moment before fading away like ice melting before a warm sun. "The moment I saw the star." He kissed her hand. A slight bow later and he took his leave.

She watched as he threaded his way through the throng of joyous elves, nodding and smiling to the many before melting out into the night. His words puzzled her greatly for if he had meant the light of Elbereth why didn't he say stars? Why did he only speak of one star? Perhaps a particular star…yet he had said the star as if there was only one…

"What puzzles my sister so greatly that she cannot spare her brothers a greeting?"

Arwen spun, snapping out of her thoughts, the voice behind her sparking light back into her eyes. "Elladan! Elrohir!"

"You should not have said anything, 'Ro, for now we shall not be able to tell if her if her response is only one of masterful acting or truly a pleasure-filled welcome," Elladan chided, making to cuff his twin on the back of the head.

Elrohir neatly ducked his brother's swipe. "Ah, she would not have honored us with one of those, 'Dan. Only her suitors are given such a gift."

Arwen sent them a quick glare but it vanished at their sunny grins. "Honestly, to even say such things...you know how I feel upon this subject."

"That you shall never marry but waste away in seclusion and dreary colors until the ships of Valinor come to whisk you off." Elladan pressed a hand to his heart melodramatically.

Elrohir nodded, an impish grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Too true, brother. If not for Legolas, I fear she would never step past these doors."

"Anyone who thinks you two are past the elflings in wit must have cotton plugged in his head." A single prod pushed Elladan back a step, and a satisfied Arwen turned her attention back to the floor of dancing elves.

He, however, was not accepting defeat. "Legolas seems to think we have sense, else he would not have agreed to accompany us on a short hunting trip before returning to Mirkwood."

The reply's clever barb was lost on Arwen as her face fell, her eyes lighting with confusion and a hint of anger as she whirled back on her brother. "Returning to Mirkwood! When did he decide this?"

"Arwen," Elrohir spared his twin a swift glance. "The shadow of Dol Goldor grows stronger with each passing day. His people need him."

"He is the prince, you know," Elladan continued puckishly, his grin widening at his sister's defiant stare.

Arwen tactfully ignored his comment and her eyes began to search the hallway as she spoke, "Cannot Begil or Naimen take his post? He has only been here for three days…"

"They have been overseeing his responsibilities."

"But-"

"Arwen, he is the best archer Mirkwood has to offer. They need his keen eyesight and accurate shot."

"They need him, or do not want him far from sight?"

Now this was not the venue the twins expected. "You believe they baby him?"

"It is simply that they do not wish anything to graze him. Nor do they realize, though they boast of his skill, that he is a grown Elven warrior, perfectly capable of caring for himself."

"And as such they need his leadership, Arwen. He is not only a deadly opponent but his heart is strong. That is rare in these dark days."

"I still am not in favor of the situation." Arwen answered, her soft voice clipped in displeasure.

"I doubt you ever will be comfortable with idea of Legolas leaving. However, take comfort, dear sister." Elrohir swung an arm round his sister's slim shoulders, winking at Elladan, whose eyes twinkling with excitement at the prospect of their plans for the Mirkwood Prince. "We shall strive to coerce him into staying a few days more."

**TBC...**


	2. Of Gardens and Apricot Tarts

Thanks so much to all who read and reviewed the first chapter!

Chapter 2: Of Gardens and Apricot Tarts

The beds of vibrant flowers Rivendell boasted were peaceful and serene as the sun spilled over lush treetops. Only the bird's soft trills and twittering cries flew through the leaves like the butterflies flitting from sweet blossom to sweet blossom.

Arwen walked alone down the narrow paths set in stone through the lush plants. A book was held lightly in her hand but the sapphire eyes did not rest on the words inscribed upon the pages.

They instead were lost to the beauty of the morning. Reveling in the warm bliss, she let her eyes drift shut but kept walking, her feet knowing long ago the paths to tread.

All was quiet until suddenly something happened that hadn't happened to her for nearly a century. She walked into someone. Eyes jerking open, she started.

Legolas smirked back at her. "M'lady," he bowed crisply.

"Legolas," the name came out in a half sigh, "I swear, you and my brothers…you are a lethal trio and how Rivendell still stands is only known by the Valar themselves." She groaned foppishly.

"Only to some."

"Pray, tell, who are these some? Surely not the lowly and simple-minded daughter of Elrond?"

"Mi'lady, you are far from lowly or simple-minded. Indeed, you must have a great wit to else you would not still be standing here in one piece with brothers such as yours."

Arwen smiled gently, amused by his answer. She pivoted and began to stroll. The light footfalls beside her revealing that her Mirkwood friend had followed. "Elladan and Elrohir tell me that you must leave us soon."

"Aye, m'lady, I cannot shirk from my duties for long, languishing in such finery as Imladris. I think I should grow slothful." His teasing words were equally as light as his step.

"You call this shirking from your duties?" she halted, almost at a loss for words. It was not what he had said of her home that bothered her. It was that he though he was shirking his duties. She had lost her mother to that way of thinking and she would not lose a dear friend. In an impulsive gesture, she clasped his forearm, gently but still firmly. "Legolas, an Elven spirit is a volatile thing, as you well know. To refresh and enlighten that spirit is key."

"M'lady-"

"Tell me, Prince, how do you expect your troops to rally when you yourself cannot really do so? If they need someone to look to as badly as my brothers believe let them not see one weary and downtrodden. They must see hope. And you must be that hope. But even a candle in the night needs a bit of air to strengthen its glow."

To her utter surprise, he began to laugh. "M'lady, it is as I said. You have too great a wit to be harmed by the snares of the twins."

"I think the one with true wisdom stands before me, for he is wise enough to deceive even himself. Yet perhaps that defeats the achievement of wisdom…for only the wisest can hide the truth from themselves but if truth is hidden what wisdom can be found in that?" She scrutinized his virulent blue eyes closely but nothing could be read within their depths but what she had already perceived. "You are tired of battle, Legolas. I can see it in your eyes. You long for peace. For your people, let your heart open and heal. Stop hiding your pains behind that veil of deception."

He replied with the most serious tone she'd ever heard from the merry wood elf.

"That is a transgression that I shall labor to remedy with all the life and breath I have within me."

And she believed that he would. For when this particular elf made a promise he never broke it. Ever.

Hoping to bring the glow back into her friend's face now that she had attained his assurance of remaining joyful, she returned to their easy banter. "Be sure to leave some air in those Sindarin lungs of yours or I shall have the unfortunate task of telling your father of your fate."

Legolas grimaced at the envisioned scene. "Now, that would not be a pleasant task, I can assure you."

"In truth, I shall consider myself lucky if I can somehow remain in one piece."

"And I would not disagree."

A slight touch of sadness in his voice caused her to change the subject, again endeavoring to bring that unsurpassable glow to his features. "Besides, Imladris is not all you brag of, surely your father's place lays claim to magnificent beauty."

"True, but Imladris contains some things which I fear my home will never hold."

"Such as?"

"Hmm?"

"What does your home lack that mine possesses?"

"Peace, laughter."

"Your home has suffered then. Receive comfort, though, the mirth will return, Legolas. It cannot avoid it with a prince such as you."

He feigned thinking long and hard. "Am I to be flattered or take offense at that, M'lady?"

"Oh, I don't know. Which would you choose?"

"I should like to be flattered but then I should become proud. If I take offense I must become irate and that I find impossible to do on a morning such as this."

"Well, then, it seems you have found yourself an enigma to meditate on."

"Indeed."

They ambled for a time, neither feeling compelled to speak but instead savoring the coolness of the morning, the song of the birds, and the mere presence of each other.

At the end of the winding pathway, Arwen paused, catching his forearm once more. "Legolas, what did you mean last night when you spoke of the star?"

He opened his mouth to answer, a slight crease across his brow and his blue eyes appeared caught in a spring storm. But a ruckus beyond them broke off whatever it was that he had begun to say.

"Legolas! Congratulate us, gwador." the twins strode forward, wide grins on their faces and little white packages in their hands.

"You have it, as always, yet may one ask the reason behind such jubilant cheer?" Legolas appeared almost as if he would like to turn and dart off in the opposite direction as the twins approached.

"'Dan and I have successfully pilfered three parcels of Rivendell's famous apricot tarts."

"Ah, my friends, you spoil me." The words seemed pleasant enough but Legolas could have just swallowed a hot pepper if one judged by his expression.

"The great prince of Mirkwood deserves to be spoiled." And with a mighty flourish, the twins dumped their plunder into the blond archer's arms. Then, nodding in farewell they scurried off, looking suspiciously like they had pulled of one of their infamous pranks.

Legolas stared down at the loot in his arms as though it were an orc's meal. He had a massive soft spot for the sweet pastries and could devour them at a whim but this did not seem entirely like the twins, especially since they themselves relished the treats. "M'lady…could you-"

"Not I, great prince. I have no desire to be sullied by some foul potions hidden in your 'tarts'."

Legolas looked upon the verge of either sighing heavily and trying the treats himself or dropping the parcels and running after the twins, demanding that they tell him just what exactly trick they were trying to pull.

An Elven voice, raised to a high shrill, made the decision for him. "Legolas Thranduilion! Get your thieving, deceptive, incorrigible, wood elf hide in here this instant!"

Legolas' face went white. "Aranduriel," he groaned.

The elder she-elf had made a reputation for herself in both the wonderful dishes she prepared and her searing temper, turned upon any who dare invoke her wrath and enter her kitchens. Normally, the Elven Prince could soothe her better than any other and had saved the twins from her doom hundreds of times but it seemed this day was not so fortunate.

Two seconds later and Aranduriel herself flew into the gardens, a thick spoon in one hand and an iron pot in the other.

Legolas tried to rid himself of the evidence lying contentedly in his arms. However, it was too late.

Eyes flashing, Aranduriel stormed forward like a whirlwind. "I do not care if you are the Lord Elrond himself! You will taste the sting of my spoon on that pandered behind of yours before this day is through!" reaching out she caught the edge of the archer's ear and dragged him down to her shorter height. "I have told you time and time again! My apricot tarts are not for the taking!"

"Aranduriel, I did not take these. I tell the truth!" He exclaimed, eager to defend his honor and, more importantly, ease the pressure on his ear.

"Then who did?" Her clutch on his left ear tightened.

Legolas' mouth snapped shut. He had reached an impasse for if he told Aranduriel who really took the tarts then he would face their wrath. However, as it was, he would face the tiny cook of Rivendell's wrath and hers was a force not to be reckoned with. Still, he had practically grown up with Elladan and Elrohir and that loyalty was not easily set aside.

"Aranduriel, it was my brothers." Arwen interceded for him, noting the indecision written plainly across his face. "Legolas was not to blame."

"Hmph," the older elf eyed him suspiciously as if he would suddenly sprout wings and fly away but she released his ear.

"Truly, t'was not him."

"Very well, but I expect to see your pesky brothers in my kitchen shortly. They deserve a good tongue lashing for this." She wagged her finger in the archer's face.

"Aye, ma'am." He nodded penitently, resisting the urge to rub his aching ear.

"And don't you think they'll get off because you are leaving soon."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Hmph," her favorite expression sounded again. Turning, she headed back to the main home's arches. "Keep the tarts, Legolas," she called over her shoulder, "might put some color back in those cheeks."

TBC...

Elvish Translations:

Gwador- Brother (a term used in close friendships as opposed to actual blood relation)

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	3. The Sun is Shining

This is the new chapter (added 4-17-08) , in case you were wondering.

This is also due to Calenlass Greenleaf1's suggestion, so many thanks to her!

**Chapter 3: The Sun Is Shining**

Legolas was no where to be found.

The Homely Houses had been turned inside out in an effort to find him, Elorhir and Elladan had seen to that personally. They would have merely assumed that he had gone for an afternoon ride with Astaldo but the black stallion was resting contentedly in the stables. The Prince's rooms were immaculate and the libraries were vacant.

That left the pair of rambunctious twins in a conundrum.

They had hoped to depart that day for their hunting venture or at the very least to discuss it in more detail than agreeing that one should occur.

Bolstering themselves with the fact that whenever Legolas had gone missing he was either in dire trouble or brooding over something, they armed themselves with a pile of bandages and apricot tarts and announced that they would be scouring the gardens and nearby forest.

Arwen watched in slight amusement as they tramped out the doors, both placing wagers on who would find the wayward Wood-elf first. She waited until their voices had died down before quietly slipping down to the stables.

Of all her family, she knew Legolas' moods best. The two had nurtured a close, intimate friendship since they were young, hiding from the twins together in a game of hide and seek or reading a tome together in the library or racing through the forests at a breakneck speed.

And when the time came, they wept together, comforted each other, and found a quiet sense of peace in the other's company.

Entering the sun-filled shelter, she made her way calmly to the third stall down. In it a powerful black stallion stood.

"Mae Govannen, Astaldo." She whispered and watched as the horse's warm muzzle pressed against her waist in a gentle reply.

Other than the soothing whisper of the morning breeze, the stables were silent. But Arwen knew better.

"Legolas…you come out now. Elladan and Elrohir have gone to raid the forest in search of you. They shouldn't be back 'till the evening meal."

She didn't turn from Astaldo's smooth coat and smiled as a soft thump followed by a forlorn sigh sounded from behind her.

"How is it that your brothers could search until their hair turns gray while you can find me with a bat of an eyelash?" Legolas entered her sight and strode around to Astaldo's other side. He was pouting yet there was a spark to his eyes. "Are you sure they are related to you?"

"Where was your great lair this time, oh mastermind of secrecy? The feed trough? The hay bales?"

"The rafters, actually."

"Ah, difficult to reach I imagine."

"Nay, not with a little help from Astaldo." Legolas ran a hand tenderly down his faithful stead's forehead.

Arwen's smile faded as she watched the quiet communication between horse and master. Legolas' motions and calming flow of Elvish was ever the same save for a slight pinching at the corners of his eyes and the tightness of his lips.

"Legolas," she paused, forming the words, "your heart is heavy. I can see it and it pains me."

He was silent for a long stretch of time, still stroking Astaldo in that same methodical way. "I dreamt last night of Mirkwood."

Arwen watched as he brushed away a tiny speck of dirt from his stead's broad back. His eyes were purposefully diverted from her own and that could only mean that he was deeply upset.

"She was covered by a shadow filled with anger, betrayal, hate." He faltered for a moment. "I saw my father in pain. I saw my mother weeping. I saw my brother in bonds. And somehow…I knew that it was my fault. All of it."

His eyes finally met hers and she felt the raw pain radiating from him. The pale blue orbs were filled with anguish and Arwen felt her heart constrict at the sight of it.

"The forests fell to flame and darkness and all the while I watched, unable to do anything."

"Legolas…" Arwen's voice was barely a murmur.

"I would have borne it…but I cannot. This dream has plagued me for days and I cannot rid myself of it."

Astaldo seemed to sense his master's sorrow and shifted towards him, nickering softly. The action brought a melancholy smile to Legolas' mouth.

"Legolas, you are loyal and brave. You have withstood much and will weather much more before your time is through."

He looked questioningly at her.

"I have seen only glimpses of your future. And I know that a great trial is brewing for Mirkwood. But you will stand strong in face of that danger and you will prove that the house of Thranduil is not without valor.

"Do not be troubled by this dream and do not let it cloud your judgment. Trust in what you know to be true and do not give up hope before the battle has even begun." Arwen's hand crossed Astaldo's well-built back and came to rest over Legolas'. "I Anor hílol. Avo 'osto. / the sun is shining. Fear not./"

He turned her hand so that it was nestled neatly in his larger palm and let it linger there. "Hannon le. /Thank you./"

"Glassen. /My pleasure/"

They stood like that, hands clasped and gazes locked, until Astaldo stamped one of his hooves as if to protest his exclusion from a silent conversation dancing between the two elves' eyes.

The pair immediately snapped back, retrieving their hands and smiling, almost bashfully, at each other.

"I should go or your hideout will be discovered when I am missed." Arwen noted the hint of sadness that darted through those crystalline eyes. "Though…perhaps later you could join me in the library. I found the tale of Turin since last you came and we never had the chance to read it together."

"I would like that very much." The light sprang back into his face and she knew instantly that he would be there.

"Then in one hour?"

"Aye."

And with that Arwen took her leave, a cheerful spring in her step and the promise of an afternoon with Legolas glowing in her heart.

**TBC...**


	4. Restless

**Chapter 4: Restless**

Arwen was restless. More restless than she could remember being in a very, very long time. The unease had hit the moment Legolas and the twins left three days previously.

This day, the bouts of disquiet had been the worst and nothing she did would quell its demanding place in her heart.

She had paced the halls until Erestor had threatened to throw her out of Rivendell on charges of burning a hole though the neatly waxed floors.

She had then scoured the gardens until Glorfindel had begun to complain of her ruining the peace with her endless inquiries after her brothers and when they would return.

She had tried to help Aranduriel with the supper but the finicky cook had told her to leave the moment she set foot on the door jam.

She had even helped clean out the old eastern wing until Alanya, the head housekeeper, had caught her staring out at the hills while smacking the dust out of an elaborate coverlet. She had instead hit a small pot of flowers, nearly shattering the delicate thing.

"Arwen, Arwen, you have too much on your mind, tithen pen." The merry elf maid took Arwen gently by the shoulders, relieving her of the bedclothes, and pointed her in the direction of a sitting place where all her drawing tools were housed. "Put those thoughts on paper or this place shall never see peace again."

"But-"

"Just go," she smiled. "I daresay the coverlet will wait for you."

Arwen had not the least bit of desire to draw but seeing as she'd been kicked out of every other place in Imladris she did not see any other alternative.

The newness of summer had draped her radiance over the valley and Arwen walked through the twisting paths to the soft sound of swishing leaves. With the golden sunlight streaming over the bright beds of flowers and the tree boughs above her dark head, she normally would have reveled in the beauty of the day. However, today it was lost on her.

Ahead lay her haven, its view overlooking the valley. It had once been her mother's and as Arwen came close, the softness of her mother's scent enveloped her.

No matter what she'd been around, Celebrian had always smelled of elanor, a little golden flower native to her home in Lothlorien. Mounting the shallow steps, Arwen entered the wide, airy pergola and smiled as she could almost imagine her mother's golden form sitting before a tapestry, her nimble fingers setting another delicate blossom on the cloth.

But those days had passed long ago and though her mother's scent remained Celebrian had sailed and the sunny gazebo had become Arwen's place of refuge.

She blew out a gentle breath and seated herself before a large easel. Her fingers drifted over the paints, brushes, pencils, and inkpots. She finally lifted a pencil, the light wood fitting perfectly to her elegant grasp.

A few unplanned, hap dash lines later and a picture had begun to take shape. As if asleep, she let her fingers let the drawing go where it would, never once truly paying attention to what they did.

After a length of time had passed, she laid down her pencil and sighed, staring out at the forest and hoping to see her brothers and Legolas to appear from the massive trees. But no one came.

Resigning herself to a dull afternoon, she turned back to her drawing intending to complete it but instead her heart stopped at what she saw.

A light sketch of Legolas gazed back at her, the impish grin that he had become known for playing about his features. The light of the forest glowing in his eyes and the firm jaw set.

Quick as a wink, she snatched the drawing from the easel and laid it inside one of her books, snapping the cover closed and hiding the sketch.

Her eyes fell to her hands, trembling like fall leaves in her lap.

She had never considered herself much of an artist, let alone a portrait taker. Yet she had not only drawn Legolas, but she had drawn him well. For a short instant, it was as if he was standing before her, staring back.

Standing rapidly, she strode out of the pavilion, hoping the entire afternoon could be forgotten.

One sound, however, caused her to freeze. Hoofbeats. Three sets of them.

Spinning and breaking into a run, her destination became the main courtyard. She flew through the arches and skidded, in a rather unladylike form, into the clearing.

Sure enough, three horses stood, sweat lathered like soap along their hides, tossing their heads and stamping restlessly.

"Faeron?" Arwen recognized Elrohir's horse instantly. Behind the grey mare stood Tirithon, Elladan's chestnut steed, and finally Astaldo, the jet black stallion belonging to Legolas.

Elrohir's silver mount snorted, the long, white mane trembling as the horse flopped its head back and forth.

"Faeron, where are my brothers?"

A quick stomp was her only answer.

"Astaldo, where is your master?" she tried the dark stallion, hoping against hope itself that the stallion could understand her. Gently, she reached out a stroked the silky coat.

Frowning, she drew her fingers away staring at the liquid sparkling on her hand. Blood. She did not need to see the deep red color to know what it was. The pungent odor was more than enough.

It also provided an answer that sent chills of dread skittering up and down her spine. This was Elven blood shed on Legolas' horse. That meant…

Her mind buzzing with worry, she darted toward the healing rooms. The distance seemed entirely too long and each step seemed slower than the previous.

After what felt like an eternity, she burst into the hallway lined with healing rooms. Two figures stood at the end of the corridor, heads bowed.

**TBC...**


	5. Revelations

**Chapter 5: Revelations**

"Elladan! Elrohir!" she cried and sprinted the last few yards to them. "Legolas, where is he?"

The twins turned blue eyes frozen in sorrow on her. "Arwen, sidh. (peace)"

"But Astaldo-"

"Please, sister, do not worry."

"Elladan, I know what I saw and I saw blood."

"Astaldo is well."

"And Legolas?"

The twins exchanged a glance charged with apprehension.

"Arwen…"

"Tell me!"

"We were attacked nearly two nights ago by an orc battalion. 'Dan and I managed to immerge unscathed. But Legolas…"

"What about him, Elrohir?" Arwen ground out.

"He received two arrow wounds protecting us as we fled the sight, one in the thigh and the other…close to his right lung."

"And?"

"We cannot say."

Arwen's blood froze. "'Ro, 'Dan, let me through!" She pushed hard at their chests, frantic to enter that room.

"Please, Arwen, not yet, you must wait! Father will call us when we may enter. It is not any easier for us than for you. Please, 'star, patience."

Arwen suddenly forgot all about her desire to get past her brothers, even Legolas' wounds themselves. "W-what did you say?" she stammered.

"Patience," they soothed.

"No, no, the part about a star." She shook her head, desperately needing to know the answer and heedless to their comforting words.

Elrohir laughed lightly, slight surprise covering his face. "That's what Legolas always called you, remember?"

Memories as the fresh as the newly cut roses in her bedroom permeated her mind. She and Legolas kneeling by the glassy lake and laughing at the distortions the water's ripples created over their young features. His reassuring arm about her when she wept over a crushed bed of flowers she had labored over for nearly three years. Sharing a cup of sweet hot cocoa before a roaring fireplace after a snowball fight with the twins, their quiet moments together after the realm's business was concluded with her father.

But most of all she remembered with perfect clarity the way he spoke her pet name, that silly quirk ever present on his lips, the timbre of his musical voice, and the deep warmth that fairly glowed in his stormy blue eyes. "_Do not trip over anymore buckets, 'star. Those such accidents tend to be hazardous to one's health and I shall not be here to catch you,"_ or, _"Watch for low branches when riding, 'star, or the next time I come you shall have a great knot on that forehead of yours,"_ and the most recent farewell, _"Namarie, 'star. Protect that wondrous joy about you even when days grow dark for I fear I shall not return for many days and it would pain me greatly to know that you were in sorrow."_

Each time it was spoken kindly, softly, and with the greatest of affection. She had always thought it a tender name a brother would bestow upon his sister but now, now she saw that every time he had spoken her pet name he was saying it as one would to a beloved. He was saying without speaking that he loved her.

Even more startling was the revelation that she loved him back. Truly, deeply, loved him.

Catching her breath, she gave one final shove and pressed past her brothers. But the door of the occupied healing room flew open in front of her before her fingers had even brushed the handle.

"Adar," Arwen's voice trembled with emotion.

Elrond stood in the doorway, bearing the most haggard and exhausted expression she had ever seen the regal lord wear.

"Is-is he?" she could not bring herself to ask.

The elder elf ran a weary hand over his face. "His condition is delicate at best. I have done all that is within my power to do."

That was all she waited to hear. Bursting through the door, she collapsed next to the massive bed and the figure nestled in it.

**TBC...**


	6. Do Not Leave Me

Some fluff in this chapter but the angst returns shortly.

Many thanks to TwilightAngelStar and Willabeth0906 for reviewing! You guys are amazing!

And as always, a huge thank you to my beta Arquenniel!

**A/N:** I've put the Elvish translations directly into the chapter instead of at the bottom. So they'll look like this: Hannon le. /thank you/

**Chapter 6: Do Not Leave Me**

Legolas was lying, tucked up to his chin in thick coverlets, as still as marble on the massive mattress. His pale face was whiter than snow and the dark fringe of eyelashes resting on his cheeks appeared darker than a midnight sky.

"Legolas?' her voice broke. They had been in these rooms before as Legolas seemed to have a penchant for trouble. But why didn't he wake and smile at her like he used to? Why didn't he take her hand and hold it within his own warm, calloused one? Why didn't he laugh at her worry and chide her for thinking he would not survive? Why?

"Legolas?" Her tone became more demanding and urgent. "Legolas, you spoke once of the 'star. I know now what you meant. Please…" Her hand fell over his and lifting it to her lips she peppered the knuckles with kisses. "Please, Legolas, fight this."

There was no response from the still prince.

She grew angry now. "Legolas Thranduilion! You told me once that the great prince of Mirkwood would never be felled by arrows! Fight this!"

Nothing.

"Legolas…" she crumbled into tears. "Please," burying her head in the blankets she let her sorrow consume her.

"Arwen,"

"Leave me be."

"But-"

"Elladan, Elrohir, I will not be moved!"

"'Star, unless I've gained a good mind for mischief I am not 'dan or 'ro."

Her head shot up.

"Unless you would wish your brothers to enter…"

"Legolas!"

His eyes were glassy and his voice weak but he was smiling. "Im gelir ceni ad lín." / It is good to see you again/

Arwen rose a hand to strike his shoulder then paused, biting her lip and thought better of it. "Insufferable wood-elf! Is that all you can say? You nearly killed yourself and that is all you say?"

He pretended to reflect for a moment. "Well, what else would you wish, m'lady? A grand speech of how my life is one tangled mess of calamity?"

Arwen, despite her previous outburst, fought the twitch of her lips. "Perhaps it is considering your constant lure to trouble."

"I, m'lady? This latest bout with ill-fortune was brought on by your danger-loving brothers, not I."

Here, she laughed softly. "A poor trait for the sons of an elven lord. And an elven prince, I might add."

Legolas went quiet, as if contemplating some great matter.

"Is something amiss? Should I call for father?" she began to rise but his hand closed around her wrist.

"Everything is well."

She sank back next to the bed, waiting for an explanation.

Something in his face changed and he regarded her with an expression she'd never seen before. It did not, however, have a bad effect on her. It warmed her heart, sending tingles up and down her spine.

And just when she thought they'd ceased, the tingles renewed their trek when he commented lightly, "Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach." /I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh/

Arwen's cheeks flushed. "Tis your fault, you know."

His ever present mirth faded to a light glow as he frowned. "You have been weeping." He reached towards her and brushed away the tear stains on her cheeks.

"You had me worried, Legolas." Arwen's eyes fell to the silken bedclothes and her fingers caressed the smooth embroidery, unable to meet his penetrating stare. "I thought you would leave us for Mandos' halls."

"Not yet, 'star. There is much for me to do before then."

"Promise?" Her gaze caught his and held it firmly.

"Promise what?"

"That you won't leave me?"

"I could never leave you."

"I need you to promise."

His grasp on her palm tightened ever so slightly. "I promise you, Arwen Undomiel, until your light fades from this world I will never leave you." His eyes radiated utter sincerity.

"Hannon le." She breathed, suddenly feeling as if she could draw air into her lungs.

He brushed the thanks off with his famous grin. "Ah, 'star, you must never feel obligated to thank me."

"I am not obligated but all the same I should like to. You gave much for me with those words, Legolas, I feel in my heart and I believe you feel so as well. My thanks are a small gift in return."

"It is more than enough." He made to continue but the words were lost in a fit of coughing that suddenly overcame him. Shaking from the violent coughs, he hunched forward, his face scrunched from the pain.

The years spent at her father's side served her well and Arwen leapt into action. A pitcher of cool water and a tumbler lay at the bedside table as was the tradition in Imladris' healing ward. Arwen snatched it up and quickly poured a small amount in the glass.

"Take this." She spoke gently and watched as he nodded his thanks before taking what she proffered and sipping at it.

Slowly, the coughs subsided and Legolas sank back in relief, greedily sucking in deep breaths of the clean air. Arwen waited in silence until Legolas murmured, "Hannon le."

"Do not worry me like that and we will be even." Arwen chided, one of her brother's smiles on her face.

Legolas chuckled a bit then groaned, clutching at his aching chest.

The worry that had subsided at Legolas wakening returned full force. "I should call Adar," she informed him as the pain did not recede from his face.

"Nay, do not bother him. I shall be fine." Legolas' voice trembled but he stubbornly latched hold of her wrist again and she was forced to re-seat herself.

"Legolas…you are not well…I worry for you." Arwen protested weakly. "Adar will know best how to help you."

Legolas threw her a feeble smile. "He has done all he can for me. To call him now would only take him from his duties."

Arwen watched as Legolas' eyes drifted closed and the cadence of his breathing became the only sound in the room. Gradually, the hoarse edge to each intake faded and the color bled back into his cheeks.

Time passed, though Arwen could not say how much, before Legolas' grasp tightened and his eyes flew open. "Arwen."

"I'm here." She leaned close to him and gently touched his temple to assure him that she wasn't an apparition.

The fright in his eyes melted away and his tense muscles relaxed into the mattress. He appeared so different then the mischievous warrior than she was used to and it made her heart ache to see it.

"I am here," Arwen repeated, her slender fingers lingering on his smooth skin, and suddenly she realized that she was so close in proximity to Legolas that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks.

His eyes centered on her and he reached forward, his fingers brushing back one of her long dark locks gently. He paused for a moment before speaking so softly that the downy feather of a young bird wouldn't have stirred. "Arwen, le melon." /I love you/

Her breath caught again, clumping in her throat. "And I you."

Legolas eyes registered surprise, as if he hadn't meant for her to hear those words. "I'm sorry," he immediately whispered and withdrew his hand as though she had burned him.

Surprising herself with her own boldness, Arwen reached out and caught his retreating hand. "Nay, do not apologize. You did nothing wrong."

His bright gaze lifted and she caught the spark of hope in them. He spoke again in that same quiet voice. "Le no an-uir nîn?" /Will you be mine forever?/

"Mae." /yes/

The sheer bliss that spread across his features and filled his eyes with such brilliant light sent thrills of joy surging through her veins. "Mae?" /yes?/

"Mae! Mae!" /yes! Yes!/

"Arwen,"

"There is nothing more to be said, meleth nin." /my love/ Arwen whispered, grinning like mad. "We will marry, you and I, and be blissfully happy."

**TBC...**


	7. The Storm Clouds Gather

Many thanks to Gionareth and TwilightsAngelStar for reviewing!!

**Chapter 7: The Storm Clouds Gather**

Arwen left the room hours later when Legolas had finally succumbed to exhaustion and she fairly skipped down the halls. Merry tunes fluttered through her head but above all his voice filled her thoughts.

Elves looked on in wonderment at their Evenstar's radiance of perfect happiness as she all but danced down the halls. However, they could not bring themselves to comment lest the image fade away like ice to warm fire. Instead, they were content to see her, their pinnacle of beauty, shimmer in peace and obvious love.

The weeks following blended into the most heavenly days the halls of Rivendell had ever known, rivaling even that at the height of Celebrian's glory. Singing filled the corridors and beauty shone like a soft summer night, glimmering with stars.

Legolas and Arwen would not be separated for longer than several hours and more than one healer checking in on their Mirkwood patient saw the dark haired maiden nestled near the prince. Each moment they spent together seemed as precious as the finest of mithril and diamonds.

Even the austere Lord Elrond could be found smiling as he gazed down upon the pair whispering together, his daughter's raven hair blending with the golden of the Wood Elf while they bent over her latest drawing or some other point of interest.

The archery range often found the pair of them bantering and laughing before the targets whilst Legolas regained his strength. Elladan and Elrohir would sometimes accompany them and the four would make a day of it, lugging along a basket filled to the brim with delectable dishes.

But their most happened upon haven were the gardens. The trees became their place to speak softly, the paths through the flowers their serene retreat, and the lush grass their chairs to sit in peace and read yet another tome from the extensive library.

Flowers appeared in the Lady Arwen's room, each delicate and softly scented, while apricot tarts often visited Legolas' chamber, the only sign that they had once been there a few leftover crumbs on the plate .

Sketch books filled with drawings began to pile up on the shelves, every one bearing the prince's likeness and signed with a tiny 'A' while the Prince was often caught humming some tune. One maid could have sworn she heard him sing of the Evenstar.

The bliss was complete and though no one knew of any serious proposal made by the Prince, they felt that wedding bells were on the horizon for the pair of lovebirds.

* * *

Arwen's hands held her sketch book, an item which rarely left her side these days as she strode down the halls to Legolas' quarters. Her face broke into a radiant smile as she though of the drawings within.

She rapped lightly on the door before entering, knowing Legolas' schedule well enough to enter without trepidation. He would be sitting by the window now, possibly reading or even writing. One knee would be curled up against his chest while the other would dangle precariously over the window ledge. His face would be turned towards the sun, a position he often took subconsciously as if he was part of the forest he loved so much and reveled under the warm rays' caress.

Sure enough, he sat in the usual position and didn't turn at the click of the door and her light footsteps. "You are two minutes late," he said cheekily, finally pivoting to face her when she stood a mere pace away.

"But who is keeping count?" Arwen grinned back, watching smugly as he let his leg stretch out and make room for her to settle on his lap. She leapt up on the window ledge nimbly and took the space offered her.

His arms came about her shoulders as she leaned against him and his cheek came to rest on her hair. "I thought that was made clear."

Though she couldn't see his face she knew the haughty, amused expression that would undoubtedly be there. "Never trust a wood-elf, meleth nin, for they hide in forests where pranksters and other such vagabonds reside."

"Then, 'star, I must tell you of the two great dangers that reside in your own home. They have the strangest magic of all and appear the same, but do not be beguiled, they are two persons, filled with the most potency of all mischief."

"You have my thanks, good prince, for the warning but I fear it is too late and they are too close to my heart to rid from Rivendell."

He tsked lightly. "A monumental tragedy."

"Indeed."

They sat in reflective silence for a time until Legolas pressed a chaste kiss to her head and asked, "Now, what have you brought me today?"

Eagerly, she flipped open the thick book and pointed to the new drawings. "This would be the arch we'd stand under and I want fresh elanor woven into the ivy lattice there."

He nodded his approval and began to turn the page.

"No, meleth nin." Arwen giggled softly and closed the book. "Those are the plans for my dress. You mustn't see those till the wedding day."

"Oh, I think I'd much prefer to see the dress then if you don't mind. The drawings can wait."

"Not till our wedding for either." She turned enough to wag a finger under his nose.

Legolas grinned at her brightly before continuing his strain of questions. "And have you picked a day?"

"Well,"

"Tomorrow?" he teased.

"No-"

"A fortnight from now?"

"No-"

"Midsummer's day in two months?"

"Legolas, would you let me finish?"

"Ah, so it is to be Midsummer's day?"

Arwen huffed in mock exasperation. "Legolas, meleth nin, I would tell you if you would cease your interruptions. And if you must know-"

"I do believe I must know, unless you plan on marrying a shrubbery."

"Legolas!" she smacked him lightly, wary of his injuries yet not quite ready to let his words escape with no consequence.

He just grinned.

And with a smile like his, she found herself mumbling the answer. "It is to be Midsummer's day."

"Now, was that so difficult to say?"

But Arwen did not answer, nor did she show any intention of responding. Her vibrant blue eyes glazed over and she slumped fully against his chest.

Blinding white enveloped her vision and the home she knew faded away to another world entirely…

**TBC...**


	8. The Storm Breaks

Thanks so much to Em2323 and Gionareth for your sweet reviews! :)

Just in case I've got some young readers, this chapter is the reason this story is rated 'T'. It's not anything too bad but there is character deaths and some violence.

Arthonnen's name means 'golden one', if my memory serves me correctly.

**Chapter 8: The Storm Breaks**

_Summer's taunting scents threaded through the long grasses, spreading hazy warmth about the meadow. Mirkwood's homes just showed over the tree's leafy peaks._

_One exuberant shriek followed by a peal of laughter broke the lazy stillness and moments later a child burst into the clearing, chubby fingers grasping at a brilliant orange butterfly just out of reach._

_The deep blue eyes of the child fairly glittered with the excitement of the chase. A cherubic face framed by a dark mop of curly brown hair glowed with each leap and bound he took._

_"Ada! Nana!" he yelped, nearly grasping the delicate butterfly._

_Two figures appeared from the forest's edges, the taller of the pair laughing merrily. "You must move faster, penneth, but with silence! /little one/" he encouraged the child lightly._

_"Perhaps you should stress the importance of silence more, my love." The she-elf smiled as she watched the young one bounce about the grasses._

_"Ah, but what would be the fun in letting him catch it so soon?"_

_She pulled a face and would have smacked his shoulder if he did not claim her hand with his own. "You would have our son lose this match with such a foe?"_

_"No, meleth nin, but I would have him spend some of his boundless energy here than at home while heading for bed."_

_At remembrance of the last night's chaotic events when they had tried to coerce their willful offspring to sleep, she rethought her first assessment. "A valid point."_

_"I quite agree," he concurred smugly._

_"My Lord Legolas, you have too much of that wood elf pride in you," she scolded impishly, knowing how he would take the lightly meant jibe._

_"And you, too much of the Noldor solemnity about you, dearest 'star, making us even." He laughed and leaned in, placing a tender kiss on her lips._

_"To think I married you," she teased after he had pulled away. "How did you ever persuade me?"_

_"A combination of dashing good looks, chivalry, and…amongst other things, a well timed question."_

_"Very well timed," Arwen continued the banter, mirth tugging at her lips. "You tried to die on me and one can never tell a perishing soul no."_

_"Indeed?" Legolas brows rose and he feigned consideration of the idea. "I think I shall have to come dangerously close to perishing more often."_

_"No, you will not. You have a family to think of now. No near death experiences for you anymore," she insisted firmly._

_His return was earnest and tender. "And I would wish no troubles upon my family."_

_"Ada!" the child's voice was not merry this time. This was a cry of terror._

_Legolas leapt towards his son and in an instant was by his side, large hands on the small shoulders to calm the terrified elfling. "What is the matter, Arthonnen? There is nothing to fear here."_

_"Yrch!" The elfling hid his head and clung to his father. "The trees fear them, Ada. They're coming." He was trembling terribly and would not loosen his grip on the soft cloth of Legolas' shirt save to point behind him._

_Legolas gently pulled him away and looked gravely into the wide blue eyes so like his own. "Arthonnen, go to your mother. Tell her what you saw. She'll know what I want you to do, understand?"_

_As soon as the elfling had fled the scene, Legolas turned back to the forests his son had been staring into. He could not see them but he could hear them, the faintest growls and curses._

_"My Lord!" An elf burst through the trees. "My Lord!_

"_Yes? Istuion, what is it?"_

"_An orc force has been sighted near this place!"_

"_Iston…/I know/"_

_The soldier glanced uneasily towards the woods. "There is also news from the south. But I cannot tell of it now. We must leave this place."_

_The two elves began to flee the area and yards ahead Legolas could see his wife leading Arthonnen to their home. "Istuion, tell me, is this news good or ill?"_

"_Ill, my lord." Istuion fidgeted slightly as if he could not bring himself to say the words. "Minas Tirith has fallen."_

_Legolas' eyes drifted shut, looking terribly pained. Edoras had fallen only days before to Sauron. "And what of Lothlorien? Does she still hold?"_

_"No, my lord," the elf reported sadly. "She fell only hours before."_

_"Imladris?" his voice fell to a whisper, a deep lump lodged in his throat._

_"Elrohir and Elladan hold strong but I fear their doom will not be prolonged for many more days. The shadow now holds so much strength."_

_Legolas suddenly appeared weary as though the full weight of his years had been thrust upon him and his shoulders sagged under the powerful weight. But his eyes glinted with the same determination that had shone his entire life. He drew his chin up and spoke clearly. "Prepare the forces, we fight this day. Mirkwood will not so easily be taken."_

_The elf paused. "My Lord?"_

_"There is more." It was not a question._

_Istuion nodded. "Aragorn was wounded by Saruman's forces."_

_The air seemed to thicken to the point where it could no longer be inhaled. For a full minute Legolas's lungs ceased to function. Until finally he forced himself to suck in a shallow breath and managed to ask, "Will he live?"_

_"Orc poison to the shoulder. No healer is left but ours and the men don't have enough trust in our race to let them through the lines. The poison will have taken complete hold over his body by now." Istuion paused, a look of anxiety flitting across his face. "He will not outlast the day."_

_"Then there truly is no hope for Middle-Earth."_

_There was a bright white light and the images melded into different colors and shapes. The figure of a wounded elf came into focus._

_A pool of blood covered the grasses he lay upon. Each moment that passed increased the red staining the bright green blades, seeping from a long gash along his thigh and another across his ribs and belly._

_There was a scream of anguish and suddenly the elf was not alone._

_Arwen knelt over him, gently turning his face towards hers with trembling hands. "Legolas! Meleth nin! /my love/"_

_Her heart seemed to freeze as she caught sight of her husband's wounds and her breath was swept away in the sheer horror of reality._

_"No," she shook her head violently and brought the pale lips close to hers. Her heart resumed its beat upon feeling the soft wisp of breath issuing from Legolas' mouth. "Legolas…"_

_His brow creased. "Arwen?" The virulent blue of his eyes was masked with pain and the pupils struggled to center on her._

_"Yes, darling, I'm here." Her words were strangled with tears. "I'm here."_

_He coughed harshly and a bit of red dribbled down his chin. "Arwen, you shouldn't have come." He inhaled and let out the sharp breath with a low moan._

_"Legolas, please, save your strength. We'll get you to the healers. You'll be well in no time."_

_"Not this time, 'star. It's too late. I can already feel the poison in my blood." Legolas brushed her cheek tenderly and took another raspy breath._

_"Legolas, do not give into the darkness!" Arwen clasped his face tightly and immediately felt the cold emanating from him. "Lasto beth-nin! Please! /listen to my voice/"_

_His reply was soft and in the ferocity of her sorrow she almost missed it. "Le melon. /I love you/"_

_Arwen choked on her own tears. "Legolas, please…do not leave me."_

_"Ah, 'star, do not weep for you will never be alone. Give Arthonnen my love?"_

_"Please, Legolas, no, no, no. You will tell him yourself and be well again. You will not leave us…"_

_He smiled and seemed almost wistful as his gaze left hers and he stared up through the branches. "Tiro, I Anor hílol. /look, the sun is shining/"_

_And with Arwen kneeling over him, her tears wetting his face, Legolas Thranduilion breathed his last._

_Another flash of light._

_An Elven child standing by a cliff, surrounded on all sides by black tides of orcs. "Ada?" he called timidly, his quiet voice quivering as the orcs leering faces moved closer._

_"Enjoy your last lungful of air on Middle-Earth, you little rat," the leader snarled, a dark grin on his face. He lifted a massive scimitar and prepared to bring it down._

_"Nana! Ada! /Mommy! Daddy!/" the child shrieked._

_Another flash, brighter and larger than before._

_Arwen stumbled through the carnage, her cloak catching on the sharp weapons protruding from the massacre._

_"Arthonnen? Ion-nin?" she called, desperate to find him when her eyes finally caught sight of a little golden body._

_"Arthonnen!" Her scream rent the air and as she dove forward, catching the small form of her son, cold and bloody with death._

_"No, no." She pressed him close to her heart and rocked back and forth as she did once when he woke with nightmares. "Arthonnen…"_

_The young face was pale and the intelligent eyes were closed, never to open. He had joined his father._

_And in her sorrow, Arwen finally succumbed to the poison in her own wound. Moments passed before, Arwen Undomiel's light had faded and Middle-Earth was truly left with nary a hope to bring it from the shadows._

**TBC...**


	9. The Choice

Thanks so much to Calenlass Greenleaf1, Caomhe of Tyrone, GrayTanuki, Em2323, Gionareth, and TwilightsAngelStar for your wonderful reviews!

Quick Note to Calenlass Greenfleaf1: I am working on your suggestion but was unable to do so this week. I'll try to get that up with next week's chapter. Thanks again!

**Chapter 9: The Choice**

The picture snapped and Arwen bolted forward, nearly pitching out the window.

"Arwen!" Legolas' arms tightened about her waist and barely managed to keep them from tumbling to certain death.

"Legolas!" Arwen held to his neck like one caught in a typhoon. "Don't let go! Please! Don't let me go!"

Only twice in her long life had she wept, not a few splattering tears but truly a heartbroken cry of sorrow, one that drowned all thought out, one that would not be quenched or appeased. Twice in over a thousand years. And this day made the third. Sobbing, she clung to what she viewed as her lifeline. And in a way, he was her tether to reality, something solid and steady in a blaze of horrible images.

Visions were rare and far between but this was the most vivid, the most heartbreaking she'd ever experienced.

It revealed the fate of her family. It revealed the fate of Middle-Earth.

"Arwen, sidh, all is well. I will not leave you. /peace/" Legolas' voice murmured in her ear, soft and soothing.

The images from her vision filled her eyes again and she knew that he would leave her. He would leave her for Mandos' halls. He would not want to and it would break his heart but he would have no choice. If they married as she had seen, if they lived in the bliss she'd witnessed, if they were parents to the precious child she'd viewed, Middle-Earth would fall and her beloved would perish at the hands of orcs, bloodied and bruised.

That day the sun faded behind the hills but the couple still sat in the window sill, Arwen alternately weeping then staying deathly silent and all the while Legolas held her close, whispering words of comfort. But nothing he said seemed to ease the burden she carried in her heart.

--

You're in my arms  
And all the world is calm  
The music playing on for only two  
So close together  
And when I'm with you  
So close to feeling alive

A life goes by  
Romantic dreams will stop  
So I bid mine goodbye and never knew  
So close was waiting, waiting here with you  
And now forever I know  
All that I wanted to hold you  
So close

So close to reaching that famous happy end  
Almost believing this was not pretend  
And now you're beside me and look how far we've come  
So far we are so close  
_So Close- By Jon McLaughlin_

Silky moonlight spilled into the room, gently stroking the figure of the two elves still cradled together, Arwen pressed close against her fiance's chest, the steady drum of his heartbeat stilling her tears, and Legolas staring out at the stars.

"Legolas?"

Legolas nearly started. That was the first word she'd spoken for hours. "Yes, 'star?"

Her voice trembled and had a rough edge from all the weeping she'd endured but it still carried all the gentle love and tenderness that had ever lined the soft tones. "I have seen us together."

"And?"

"We have a beautiful child, Legolas. Beautiful. He has your face and eyes but my hair. His laughter is sweeter than honey." She shivered and he unknowingly tightened his grasp about her waist.

"He grows strong and tall and is a master archer like his father. You and I live as we have always planned. We are so happy, meleth nin, so perfectly, incandescently happy." Tears filled her eyes. "But that all changes when you meet and befriend a human of royal blood named Aragorn. He is impetuous and confused but you refuse to lose hope that he will defeat Sauron."

"And does he succeed?"

"No…" Arwen's voice was more subtle than a violet's velvety petal. "He is felled and Middle Earth soon collapses without alliances to piece her together."

"This Aragorn…he is the last ray of hope for these lands?"

"He is the mediator between the lands of men and elves. Without him, no one will stand together save with their own races and so with their race…they will succumb to darkness." She turned her face into his tunic, the clean scent of the forest filling her senses, wishing that she could wrap herself in a cocoon of warmth and love and let the world care for itself.

"But how does our relationship affect Middle-Earth so irrevocably?"

"Aragorn was the hope for his people…but he had no hope for himself…" the tears fell once more, "he had no 'star to guide him."

Legolas went silent and his muscles suddenly tensed, as if struck.

Time seemed frozen. Hours and minutes were irrelevant and blended together in one mass of tangled thoughts.

When he did finally speak, he, too, spoke in low tones. And his voice, the ever merry wood elf voice, was for the first time truly sorrowful and never once had she seen his shoulders slump as they did now. His eyes radiated heartbreak, the deep blue pools of his soul shattered into a thousand, sparkling shards. "Then we have no choice, 'star."

"Goheno nin, /forgive me/" she could hardly speak for the lump in her throat.

"Arwen," he sighed her name, gently dabbing away her tears with his thumbs. "You need never ask for it."

She tried valiantly to be strong as he was, to hold her herself with the dignity and poise the daughter of an Elven lord should posses. It was for naught. Dropping her gaze from his, she wept anew.

He never told her to stop her tears, he never said a word. He merely began to hum. The song was one she had heard a thousand times. A lullaby, one she knew they would have sung together over their son.

Yet the effect it had on her was the opposite she would have thought. It eased the pain in her head, the ache in her eyes, the chill to her arms, and most importantly the sting in her heart.

More time passed as they savored what could only be their last moments together in such a way. It was she that moved first. Turning to him, she trapped his head between her hands.

"Know this Legolas Thranduilion, no matter what happens from this day on…le melon. /I love you/"

"And I you."

She moved forward and brushed his lips with her own. A brief moment passed and she drew herself away. "No in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn. /May all stars shine on your path/" she whispered, knowing everything would change the moment she stepped from the room.

His response was exactly what she knew it would be, ever giving, ever loving, ever selfless. "No galu govad gen. /May blessings go with you/"

She had no idea that in that gentle, pale blue light sliding over her porcelain skin her angelic features lit up with a glow that made her virulent sapphire eyes fairly shine. Nor the way her silky dark hair caught the beams and glimmered with each movement she made.

But he saw. And he would never forget.

Swallowing the tears that would surely overtake her if she did not take her leave, she moved away from him. Each step towards the door seemed to send sharp pains lancing through her heart, almost as if someone was literally tearing it out and the agony was almost unbearable.

Her fingers brushed the knob and the cool metal felt like molten iron. The resolve within her mind crumbled and for an instant she was going to turn back and throw Middle-Earth's fate to the wind. Then her mind flashed back to her vision.

Arwen forced the door open. She could not be that self-centered, she could not ask that of him, she could not wish that death upon him by demanding a few years of happiness.

One last glance was thrown over her shoulder as she stepped beyond the doorway and it completed ripping her heart in two.

He sat as she had found him earlier that afternoon. One knee placed firmly against his chest, the other dangling over the garden. The strong fingers threaded together and placed on his knee. His face was upturned to catch the beams of the moon, eyes closed, and his flaxen hair gleamed in her silvery touch.

It was not the position that caused her heart to break but the sight of a single, lonely tear slipping down his cheek.

Chocking back a sob, she fled down the hall. She knew deep in her soul that Middle-Earth had just been spared a terrible fate…but then why did her very spirit seem to scream in anguish?

Legolas was a path she simply could not take. It was doomed to waste away as a passage closed away to her, a picture whose beauty had been hidden. A different destiny lay before her. What had been was now gone.

The past was the past.

And nothing would change that.

**TBC...**

We have one more chapter to go. Please don't give up on me just yet!


	10. Past the Rubicon

Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me through this story! It's been so incredible to have you all!!

Many thanks are due to my reviewers: Calenlass Greenleaf1, Em2323, GrayTanuki, Galad in elin, jenyme, and Gionareth!

**A/N:** To avoid confusion this first half of the chapter is third person POV and the second part of the chapter is from Arwen's POV. I hope that isn't confusing for any of you!

Oh! and for any of you that would like to read something happy after reading this chapter, I've added a new chapter to this story at Calenlass Greenleaf1's suggestion. It's titled 'The Sun is Shining'. (it's the new chapter 3) Enjoy!

**Chapter 10: Past the Rubicon**

None could say exactly what changed in the Evenstar after that. But her smiles faded from their radiant glory, though still exceptional, and her laughter, fresh and sweet, became a rarity. She was no longer seen in Imladris, preferring instead to her spend time in Lothlorien.

She was ever the light of her people but that light seemed to dim, capturing a more serene and, if possible, solemn glow.

As for the Prince of Mirkwood, he could not be kept away from the halls of Rivendell for long but slowly the stretches of time began to lengthen and his presence became an uncommon event. Occasionally, one could find him standing before Arwen's bower, a strange, heartbroken expression on his face.

Many tried to find the answers to the questions that buzzed about, providing their own conjectures as to what had conspired.

Some said that it was the loss of the Evenstar's mother that finally drove her from the eaves of her home. Some said that she had been wounded. Some said that she had lost a lover.

And in some ways all of them were correct.

* * *

**3019 of the Third Age**

Aragorn's hand lifted and touched my chin, the warm fingers, I knew nearly as well as mine own, quivering.

I knew I should look up to meet what could only be his astonished stare. I knew that I should speak, to put his heart at ease, to assure him that I was not a phantom. But…I could not.

My eyes seemed riveted to the stones beneath my toes and nothing I did would cause them to budge. One name was frozen in my mind, one that I had thought I had forsaken all serious attachment to centuries ago. Legolas…

A lump caught in my throat and I was swept away in the torrent of memories that accompanied that name.

Why could I not move past this? Legolas and I had both agreed to this settlement. Not to mention that I was the one who had initiated the conversation. I had been the one to break the bond. Not Legolas.

If anyone should have healed it should have been me.

Aragorn's soft intake of breath brought me out of my thoughts.

I had to follow through with this. I could not be weak now. I had seen the future without Aragorn, heir of Isildur. I knew the blood baths that would result if I was not his 'star.

It was not that I did not love Aragorn. I did, very deeply. His rough exterior melted away in my presence, showing rich character and honest devotion to those he loved. I loved the way his eyes twinkled when he caught sight of me. I loved his tender touch and earnest words.

But I also cared for Legolas. I always had. His never ending fountain of mirth and joy, it was so bright and pure, bringing me comfort in the darkest of days. I knew the happiness we would experience and the joy it would give to so many. I knew the child I would bear and the way his bright eyes would sparkle. I knew the radiant beams of ecstasy that would encompass my life with Legolas.

Middle-Earth, however, would have no such happy ending.She would be swept away, a helpless rag doll in a flood of darkness and evil.

This battle that raged within me was one that would shape the very future of Middle-Earth and I could not—nay, would not have her fall to darkness after all she had prevailed against.

Swallowing my regrets and forcing back the golden images of a life that I could not experience, I slowly began to raise my eyes.

This was my future now.

My gaze met Aragorn's and I presented him with a tremulous smile.

I had made my choice.

There was no turning back.

**Fini**

As far as giving Arwen and Legolas a happy ending I might write another story with that as the focal point. But for now, I'm going to focus on finishing some other things first. And who knows? Maybe soon there will be a pre-Lord of Rings epic featuring betrayal, deceit, and lots of Legolas appearing under my author's page.

Again, thanks to you all!


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